


instead of feeling alone in a group

by KingOfRats



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Cousin Incest, F/M, Hardyng is mentioned like once, Jon is Jon Targaryen, a big matchmaking brain, also daenerys isn't there for too long, but she has a big brain, its a dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfRats/pseuds/KingOfRats
Summary: Daenerys is done with Rhaegar trying to push her and Jon together, so when Sansa Stark comes to the dance in honor of the newest Targaryen prince, Daenerys hatches a plot to pair her and Jon up.





	instead of feeling alone in a group

**Author's Note:**

> im like 92% sure this was inspired by a valar morekinks prompt like "daenerys is betrothed to jon but wants to break it so she gets him to fall in love with sansa" or something like that but after some crippling computer issues which are probably more ironic than i like i no longer have the prompt
> 
> also i honestly just need to get this off my computer because its pingponged between 500 and 1500 words for like a week and winter term is starting up so... i hope you like it?
> 
> ALSO also the name is from solitude by nymano, from the one line that faye says to vincent and its not fitting at all for this tbh but its what i was listening to at the time and none of you can stop me so consider this my power trip for the day i guess

"He wants me to marry Jon!"

A week ago, if someone had asked Sansa about the dance in honor of Queen Elia's newest son, well, she'd probably just have demurred and told them it was a great honor to be invited. And it is. The feast has been nothing short of lavish, and there is a tourney and the Seven know what else yet to come. In all honesty, its more than a little excessive, even to celebrate a new prince.

Sansa suspects that's the Martell's fault. They had never forgiven Rhaegar for taking Lyanna as a second wife. And although it hasn't seemed to make much impact on his marriage to Elia, that has less to do with Rhaegar, if she is to believe the rumors she has been hearing, and everything to do with Elia and Lyanna being rather taken with another.

But taking Sansa's polite and perfunctory answer aside, her honest answer would be something like an embarrassingly high pitched squeal of excitement. You know the kind. She isn't a little girl anymore, but this is one of _Rhaegar's_ dances. He even played his harp sometimes, and if that isn't something right out of a song she doesn't know what is.

Of course, the dance isn't anything like a song. Handsome knights are supposed to be honorable and charming, and they are definitely not supposed to paw at young maidens. Songs don't have drunk princesses, either, but its hard to be mad about Daenerys.

"Can you believe it?" Daenerys complains, sweeping a hand in frustration. "I don't know how many more times I'm going to have to tell him that Jon's like a brother to me - and not in the Targaryen kind of way!"

Sansa smiles sympathetically and takes a sip of her wine. She can believe it, actually, although hearing Daenerys' clear derision for the match makes something in her chest light and floaty and hopeful. Jon is polite and honorable and terribly handsome, and makes for a much better candidate than Viserys. If they wanted to be married, she's quite sure that Rhaegar would have them married before the month was out. "I'm sure the king will figure it out eventually."

"He'd better," Daenerys sighs, disaffected. "Enough about my problems, though. I already think about them enough. Let's talk about yours! Specifically, why aren't you out there, dancing? You look stunning tonight, Sansa, men should be throwing themselves at your feet!"

"Well," Sansa stalls and tries not to cringe. Men throwing themselves at her had been the problem. Or at least, a specific man. "I just finished a dance with Ser Hardyng and-"

"That oaf? I thought you were looking upset!" Daenerys interrupts. "Are you alright? Do I need to have him kicked out again?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I just need a little break."

"Nonsense, I'm not going to let that pig run your night. Besides," Daenerys says, suddenly excited. "I have just what you need - a guard dog."

"A guard dog?" Sansa repeats. "I'm afraid you've lost me. Unless I'm supposed to enjoy my night by watching Ser Hardyng get mauled."

"Well, I suppose he's more of a guard wolf," Daenerys corrects herself with a mischievous grin. "Jon's half Stark, after all. You can take him for the night. Someone needs to make him dance, anyways, and it certainly won't be me."

"Prince Jon?" Sansa gasps. "I couldn't ask him to do that!"

Not for fear of rejection, though. Sansa has known Jon since they first met in Winterfell, years ago when they were still kids. Lyanna hadn't wanted her son to grow up without knowing her beloved childhood home or uncles - who had loved her so dearly that they'd nearly started a civil war trying to get her back. And Sansa's parents had been just as eager to get to know their nephew. His visits had become more rare as he grew older, but Sansa still knows him quite well. Jon would dance with her if she asked.

The problem is that Jon was always close to Robb, growing up. Too close. It was to be expected, really. They'd been boys of the same age, and they'd spent much of their time together. Jon had learned how to ride and hold a blade alongside Robb. To Jon, Robb was more of a brother than a cousin.

Which meant that he must see Sansa like a little sister. Jon had spent most of his time with Robb, but he always had time for any of the Starks. Sansa still remembers the languid summer afternoons they spent together fondly, when she had played at Queen Naerys or Jonquil and Jon was always her faithful knight. It was nothing special. He would have done the same for Bran or Arya, if they'd asked.

That didn't stop her imagination from running wild. Especially not once they had grown up, and Jon had turned into a handsome young man. Jon had always been polite and sweet to her, even when she had been nothing but a silly girl. And where most silly girls dreamed of a Southron prince sweeping them off their feet, someone with hair of gold or silver, she had dreamed of a prince with dark curls.

But Jon has spent years in King's Landing. And even if Aegon is the Crown Prince, Jon is still a prince. Just because he doesn't want to marry Daenerys doesn't mean there isn't some other girl he's in love with - and there are surely plenty vying for his attention.

"Then its a good thing I'm here to ask for you," Daenerys crows triumphantly, either unaware or uncaring of Sansa's dilemma, and she waves her nephew over before Sansa can stop her. "Jon!"

"Dany!" Jon greets his aunt with a hug and a smile. 

His smile only seems to grow wider when he turns to see her, and the he presses a kiss to the back of her hand in greeting and she isn't really paying attention to what happens next. Her cheeks are a furious red and it's more than a little embarrassing to admit, but the feeling of his warm lips and hot breath on her fingertips is so distracting that she misses Daenerys' ensuing command completely - the next thing she knows, Daenerys has taken her wine and she's arm in arm with Jon, being pushed towards the dance floor while Daenerys shouts behind them, "Make sure not to step on her toes, Jon!"

"I'll try my best," he whispers to her conspiratorially. "But I'm afraid I can't make any promises."

Sansa giggles, although whether its at his words or his closeness she can't say. "I'm sure you've improved since we were children - even if Robb certainly hasn't."

"That sounds about right," Jon says as his hands find her hips. "Robb was never very interested in dancing."

They start slowly, and for all Daenerys' taunting Jon clearly knows what he's doing. Sansa doesn't think she could have minded him stepping on her toes, not so long as it meant he was dancing with her, but its a pleasant surprise. "And you are?" She asks with a quirked brow.

"No," Jon admits freely, with a blush and a smile that's too wide to be merely polite. "But I am interested in a lady."

He's looking her right in the eye as he says it, and Sansa's heart is suddenly lodged in her throat. She swallows around it and looks away.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, unable to stop herself and equally unable to look him in his warm, gray eyes and pretend like everything is normal. Its terribly greedy that she wants him to have meant her. But Jon was probably on his way to woo some pretty Southron lady when Daenerys interrupted and forced him to dance with her. "You shouldn't have to spend tonight with me."

Jon brings a hand to cradle her face and turns her to face him gently. "Don't apologize," he tells her, voice soft and sincere and pleading. "I was on my way to see you, to speak with you, when Daenerys called me over. Father is going to play his harp tonight. I asked him to - I knew you would like it."

"Jon..." His name slips from her lips before she can stop herself, and there are tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

"May I kiss you, Sansa?"

She barely nods before their lips have met each other. It does not begin slowly or carefully, like their dance did. Sansa sinks into the pleasant heat of his chest. One of her hands has found its way into Jon's riot of dark curls and his arm around her waist is clutching her like he never wants to let go.

Some distant part of her realizes that she's going to be terribly embarrassed by how public they are being. When they separate, they are both short of breath and smiling and Rhaegar has started playing while they weren't paying attention. Tomorrow, she knows, they will have to deal with the world again, but for now, as he dips for a second kiss the world has shrunken to just the two of them.

Across the room, Daenerys toasts to her continued bachelorhood.


End file.
